


Everything's Bigger In Kansas

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Injury, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Reader Insert, Romance, Slow Burnish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-26 01:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13847613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Sam’s a Beta, has been for his entire life, despite expectations. Everyone always assumes that he’s Alpha - he’s huge, and imposing. But he replies with the same answer he always has - “they grow ‘em big in Kansas, ma’am.” Then he gets injured on a hunt, and his world turns upside down.





	1. Chapter 1

Sam Winchester had gotten used to people assuming he was an Alpha since he was eighteen. Before that, he’d been a gangly teen, all limbs and hands he hadn’t grown into, and by the time he’d hit six feet, mostly everyone had thought he was an Alpha. His brother was an Alpha, his father too, and they were just waiting for him to present - just like he was.

But it never happened.

Being a Beta was probably easier in the long run. He’d witnessed his brother’s ruts, his father’s broken heart from losing his Omega, and god knows, losing Jess hurt more than enough without the added pain of a shattered mating bond. So Sam, in a way, was glad.

On the other hand, he’d never experience that kind of love that came with the bond. That all-consuming need for someone to be there, by his side, to grow old with. Not that growing old was on his agenda, being a hunter.

He was fine with that. Now, anyway. He was doing good in the world. That was what mattered.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay here?” Dean’s voice dragged him from his painkiller induced thoughts, and Sam smiled lazily up at him. Without an Omega, Dean’s caregiving habits usually transferred to his brother, and in this situation, he thought he might have hit the jackpot. A hunt with a vampire had sent Sam tumbling down two flights of stairs, and now, he was stranded in a motel with a busted ankle, and enough morphine to sink an elephant.

“‘M gonna be fine, Dean,” he slurred, relaxing back on the pillows. He could barely feel the pain of his injury, but Dean’s jaw ticked anyway. The hunt had to be finished, and that meant leaving Sam alone.

“I’ve put warding up,” Dean started, shoving things into his duffel haphazardly. The worry was practically seeping from him, and Sam chuckled at his brother’s mother hen attitude. “And your gun is loaded, under your pillow. Salt lines, holy water,” he paused, looking around the room. “Shit, dude, maybe I should call someone else.”

Sam shook his head, letting his eyes flutter closed. “Dean, no one is gonna know I’m here,” he murmured, stretching his fingers out behind his head. Goddamn, were his hands always this big?

There was no response to his commentary until he heard the faint sound of a phone dialing out, and he rolled his eyes behind his closed lids. Of course, Dean wouldn’t be happy leaving him be. “Yeah, Garth? Got any hunters on the radar in Ohio?”

“Dean -”

“Shut up, Sam. I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Sam grunted, rolling onto his side a little, until his cast knocked against the foot of the bed, and he groaned. Sleeping on his back sucked. “I’m not your Omega, dude!” he complained, feeling a thud when Dean kicked the bottom of the bed.

“About two hours? Gotcha. Vamps nest is half cleared out. Gotta track down the rest but Sam’s hurt -” Dean paused in his explaining, and Sam cracked an eye to see him nodding. “Sure, no problem. I’ll text you the address.” He hung up, glaring over at Sam, who closed his eye again. “Garth’s sending someone.”

“Seriously, Dean, I’m not twelve, you don’t have to worry about leaving me in a motel for the night,” the younger of the two men protested, and the elder scoffed, picking up his bag.

“I’m not happy about leaving you for a couple of hours,” he replied, firing off a text to Garth. “There’s a hunter that lives two towns over. Garth says she’s cool and she’ll be here in a couple hours.”

“She?” Sam queried, and Dean rolled his eyes. “Is this to babysit or are you feeling an itch?” He knew it was the drugs talking, but the low growling sound his brother made was enough to sate Sam’s need to torture him. When no verbal response was forthcoming, Sam grunted and tried to roll over again. “I’m tired.”

“Then go to sleep and stop whining,” Dean snapped, moving towards the door, opening it. There was a slight breeze that ruffled Sam’s hair, and he scowled with his eyes closed, dragging a pillow into his arms to cuddle it. By the time Dean returned from putting his bag in the car, Sam was out cold, snoring loudly under the effects of the painkillers. “Big baby,” he muttered, pulling a beer from the cooler and sitting down to wait.

Sam was still out when there was a soft knock at the door, and Dean quickly pulled his gun out, cocking it before moving towards the door. He left the chain on, opening it a crack, seeing a woman stood on the walkway, looking a little impatient.

“Dean Winchester?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. She had a duffel slung over one shoulder, the plaid shirt she was wearing was several sizes too large for her. He nodded, shutting the door to remove the chain, preparing to run through the usual drill. As soon as he opened the door again, holy water landed on his face and he spluttered in response, wiping at his eyes to find her grinning sheepishly. “Not a demon then.”

“You could have asked,” he grunted, opening the door for her.

“Weren’t you about to run the usual with me?” she replied, smirking at him, and tipping the holy water over her own arm. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Can’t be too careful.”

Dean sighed, knowing that he deserved that. His history wasn’t stellar and was apparently well known throughout hunter circles. “Yeah, yeah. Listen, Garth said you were down with babysitting gigantor.” Her eyes drifted to the bed where Sam was sprawled, his casted leg up on pillows, and his hair strewn about his head like some kind of halo.

“Does he need babysitting?” she asked, looking a little skeptical. “I mean, you’re Winchesters, right?”

He didn’t have time for this. “Look, I got a vamps nest to deal with. And I can’t go in there worrying about Sam.”

“Can’t I help with the nest?” she asked, and Dean frowned.

“No, you - what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she replied, still not looking at him, her eyes glued to Sam. “Has he been to a hospital for that cast, or did you do it?”

“Hospital,” Dean bit, getting more impatient by the second. “Just watch him. Garth says I can trust you, and I’m takin’ a lot on faith here, sweetheart.” Her eyes finally landed on him, and he blinked at her stern expression.

“No faith needed, Dean. Been in the business almost as long as you have,” she snapped, pointing at Sam. “Babysitting is a cakewalk - more worried about you managing those vamps on your lonesome.”

“I got it,” he ground out, moving towards the door. “I’ll be back by dawn.”

“Do you at least want my number in case -”

“No, don’t need it.” And he was gone, the resounding click of the door making her stop and glower at the door. The sound of his car outside was brief, and Y/N turned back to the bed, inspecting the long and bulky form of Sam Winchester, who snorted in his sleep and waved away some imaginary foe.

“Guess it’s just you and me, buddy,” she sighed, sitting down on the other bed. “Garth’s lucky I owe him one.”

*****

You should have said no. The second he’d mentioned the name “Winchester”, you should have told him that the favor didn’t extend that far. You weren’t an idiot, and you knew exactly the kind of trouble those two hunters brought with them.

But, Garth had pleaded with you. And it had taken less than two minutes for you to cave. Goddamn, you were a soft touch.

The drive over had been quiet and filled with pensive thought. What the hell were you thinking? You’d heard the stories, and the legends, and even if they were into the outer orbits of imagination, you believed every single one. How could you not? The Winchesters are hunters that no one else could match, and you had gone out of your way not to get entangled in their world. Everything they did was beyond astounding, and some of it was downright sketchy, but you’d managed to stay away.

Going into hiding when the British Men Of Letters started putting out feelers, keeping off angel radar - hell, you prided yourself on your abilities, but you also prided yourself on your knack of staying alive.

Now, you were sitting in a motel room with one of the hunters you’d tried to avoid, finding yourself more than mesmerized by how fucking handsome they were.

_Try and think with your brain, not your vagina, Y/N._

Dean had been gone for three hours. And Sam talked in his sleep.

Shifting on the other bed, you laid back, clasping your hands over your belly as you pulled your phone out and opened up the crossword game you’d been playing to keep yourself occupied. Sam’s muttering ceased for a few moments, before he started again, grunting loudly and punching his pillow.

Was he fighting a clown?

“Die, Ronald,” he growled, and you couldn’t hold back the laugh that left you. The sound roused him suddenly, and he sat up with a jolt, instantly losing his balance and landing on the floor with a heavy thud and a cry of pain.

You were up in a second, discarding your phone on the bed as you rounded to the other side of his, looking down at his crumpled and bewildered form. He blinked up at you with the most gorgeous set of eyes you’d ever seen, confusion crinkling his forehead.

“Who’re you?” he asked, before groaning again, clutching his head. “Owwww.”

“Well, you’re adorable,” you replied, smirking as you offered him a hand. He took it, his large fingers dwarfing yours, and you found your breath hitching in your throat. “Were you dreaming about clowns?”

Sam shuddered as he got up with some difficulty, trying not to put too much of his larger weight on you. “Recurring nightmare,” he mumbled, landing on the bed with an “oomph”. “Are you the hunter Garth sent?”

“Yeah. I’m Y/N.”

“Sam,” he offered, smiling goofily before pain crushed his features again. You turned away, heading for the table where the bag of painkillers had been left, fishing out a couple of tablets and moving back to him. He swallowed them without water, which made you cringe but also attributed to the pain he was feeling. “How long has Dean been gone?”

You glanced at the window, noticing that it was pitch black outside. “About three hours. He didn’t take my number, and I don’t have his -”

“I’ll text him,” Sam interrupted, fishing his phone out of his pocket, and you tried not to let your eyes linger on the bulge of his jeans. He seemed oblivious, tapping away on the screen, pausing as he waited for his brother to reply.

“You hungry?” you asked, sitting at the end of his bed, careful not to jostle his broken ankle. “I can order pizza.”

“Sounds good,” he replied, not looking up from his phone. The screen lit up, casting shadows over his handsome features, and you swallowed thickly. You didn’t think you’d actually seen a man look so… alluring. “Dean’s okay. Vamps cleared out the nest, so he’s looking for them. Thinks they’re still in town, judging by the two dead bodies that just showed up.”

“Oh. Does he need help?”

Sam didn’t even text him again, looking up at you with a grin. “He’s got it. Don’t worry.” You eyed him for a second, before shaking your head. “What?” he asked, and you saw the expansion of his pupils as the painkillers started to take effect.

“Nothing,” you replied, shrugging. “I guess you’re a little different from what I expected.”

“Expected?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“No hunter gets into this and goes without hearing the name Winchester,” you murmured, leaning back, on one hand, feeling the mattress give a little under your weight.

“So what were you expecting?” Sam asked before a yawn split his face.

A dry laugh left you and you shook your head. “Nevermind. Get some rest. I’ll order some food.” He grinned as his eyes fluttered shut. He turned so his body was at an angle, allowing him to scrunch the pillow under his head. “Don’t dream of any more scary clowns.”

Sam grunted, the grin still lingering on his lips, and within minutes, he was snoring again. You sighed, patting his uninjured leg and moving over to the other bed.

If Sam said Dean could handle himself, you didn’t have anything to worry about.


	2. Chapter 2

The pizza was long cold by the time Sam woke up, and Y/N was asleep on the bed opposite him, her lashes dark against her cheeks in slumber. Sam frowned, hoisting himself up onto his elbows, still feeling the numbness of the painkillers in his system. He groaned as the kinks in his back made themselves known, and stretched out, wincing as his ankle twinged and throbbed.

Y/N stirred, rolling over onto her other side, and Sam glanced over, admiring the curve of her waist, and her firm ass in the worn Levis. Almost instantly, he was at half mast, and he grimaced at the discomfort. It wasn’t like he could take himself off to the shower and relieve himself.

And he’d rather she didn’t wake up and see him like this.

Willing his hard-on down, he sat up fully, seeing the pizza box at the end of the bed where she’d left it. Grabbing for the cardboard, Sam opened the box and started to eat, too hungry to care about the toppings. The pizza was usually better cold anyway.

When he was done, he tossed the box across the room, accidentally knocking an empty beer bottle off of the table. It clattered to the ground and smashed, and Y/N sat up, the sound of a loaded gun being cocked filling the room. Sam held his hands up as tired wide eyes darted around the room before she relaxed.

“Good to know you’re alert,” Sam chided, smiling at her and lowering his hands. Y/N put the safety back on her gun and lowered it to the bed beside her, sighing heavily.

“You scared the shit outta me,” she accused and he chuckled.

“Not my fault you’re a light sleeper.”

She huffed at him, getting to her feet and moving into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Sam shuffled up the bed, leaning against the headboard. His arousal had ebbed, replaced with a godawful itching underneath his cast. When Y/N came back out of the bathroom, he was attempting to get one thick finger between the plaster and his skin, trying to relieve the itch there.

“You need a fork,” she quipped, grabbing the takeaway bag from the pizza. Dragging a plastic fork into view, she handed it to him, giggling when he immediately thrust the implement down the cast, a look of bliss on his face as he scratched at the problem. “I remember when I broke my arm. Itches like a bitch.”

Sam hummed, still scratching away until he was done. “Did Dean turn the thermostat up? It’s hot as hell in here.”

Y/N shrugged, looking a little confused. “It’s cold in here, Sam. Must be the painkillers.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sitting back and tossing the fork to the bed. “Thanks.”

“Hey, it’s what any good babysitter would do,” she replied, smiling. “As long as I don’t have to give you a sponge bath.”

His mind instantly conjured a thousand images to cause his erection to swell again, and he blushed, ducking his eyes from her gaze. “Not like I’d object,” he thought out loud, realizing his error when her cheeks flushed red. “Sorry, I -”

“No, it’s a compliment. Honestly,” she assured him, moving a little further away. Sam couldn’t help the little pout of his lips - he wanted her closer. “Let me check that thermostat for you.” He tried to keep his eyes off of her ass as she moved but failed miserably, and when she wasn’t looking, he grabbed one of the spare pillows, covering his crotch as his pants tightened around it even more. “It’s not even on.” Y/N concluded, turning to him with a frown. “You just broke your ankle right? No open wounds or anything?” She drew closer, placing one hand on his forehead, and something set his bloodstream alight.

“No,” he groaned, arching into her touch involuntarily.

“Well, you don’t have a fever, but you’re pretty clammy,” she whispered, not moving her hand for a few seconds, and Sam would have been okay if she didn’t ever move it again. His phone buzzed, interrupting the moment, and he grabbed for it, lamenting that Y/N moved away from him again.

“It’s Dean,” he read out. “Found the last vamp, he’s heading back. Asks if we want breakfast.”

“I’m still full from pizza,” Y/N replied, picking up the broken bottle bits and putting them in the bin.

“I only just ate,” Sam muttered, tapping back a reply. Seconds later, his phone buzzed again and he read the message with a chuckle. “Your loss, I’m getting pancakes, smiley face, thumbs up.” He shook his head, dropping his phone.

Y/N glanced over, smiling at him. “Your brother is definitely not what I expected. He’s not like other Alphas, huh?”

Sam raised an eyebrow, looking over at her. “You’ve met a lot of Alphas?”

“Most hunters are Alpha male through and through, Sam,” she replied, clearing away the rest of the mess. “And I tend to avoid that type. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Why?” he asked, curious.

“I’m Omega,” she pointed out, standing straight. “And you haven’t leered at me once since I got here, so I’m thinking you’re a Beta.” He nodded, waiting for her to continue. “I used to hunt with an Alpha. My best friend. She and I… man, we had some good times. Till I found out she sold her soul and the hellhounds came for her.”

Sam’s face twisted in sympathy and he stilled. “I’m sorry.”

The smile on her face was wistful. “It’s okay. She went out fighting. Like we all do in the end. I just… didn’t wanna hunt with anyone else, y’know?” Her eyes were on his again, and Sam found himself captivated by her features. “I’m sure you’d feel the same if you lost Dean.” She paused, remembering the stories she’d heard. “Again.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Yeah. I have felt the same. Hunting with Dean… it’s pretty much all I’ve ever known. I’ve hunted with others but he’s my brother, y’know.”

“And your Alpha, technically,” Y/N pointed out. “Familial unit.” She seemed sad as she returned to sit at the end of his bed. “I never had that.”

Sam wanted to reach out to her and take her hand, feel the touch of her skin under his. More than anything, he wanted to comfort her, to let her know that… let her know what, exactly? He barely knew this woman. She was another hunter, an Omega… why would she be anything to him?

“You still look wiped out,” she said, changing the subject. “Maybe you should get some more rest?”

“I’m good,” he insisted, wanting to talk with her more. He did feel a little tired, and ridiculously overheated, which was stupid when he regularly wore five layers in the Kansas heat. “Tell me about some of your hunts.”

*****

When Dean returned, laden with food just in case Sam was hungry, his little brother was just finishing telling you about the time they actually killed Hitler. The story was so ridiculous, it had you laughing, and the way he told it, half-high on painkillers, was pretty funny. Dean gave both of you an odd look, before dropping his cargo onto the table.

“Had fun without me?” he asked, turning around to face you and his brother, before stiffening. “Oh. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t -”

“What?” you asked, frowning, and Sam cleared his throat.

“He scented you,” he pointed out, an odd tone to his speech, as Dean shuffled backward.

“Oh,” you whispered, remembering that you hadn’t taken your scent-suppressants when you’d left yesterday. The last dose must have worn off, and now Dean was smelling exactly what you tried to hide from everyone. “Sorry, I can -”

“No, it’s okay,” Dean rushed out, holding a hand out. “It’s not your fault, Y/N. I’m a big boy, can control myself after all,” he chuckled, suddenly noticing the angry look on Sam’s face. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, and you turned your head to look at Sam, taking in his expression as it changed from fury to confusion.

“What?” he asked, mimicking your high pitched question from seconds earlier.

Dean shook his head, before removing his jacket. “You looked really pissed at me, dude. Did I do something?”

Sam swallowed, unsure what to say. “No, no, I… resting bitch face,” he resorted, giving his brother a half-hearted smile. “Sorry, man. You haven’t done anything, honest.”

You stood up, pulling your shirt down where it had ridden up a little way. “Well, now your main caregiver is back, I can head home,” you stated, heading for your bag.

“Not staying for breakfast?” Dean asked, grinning lewdly, and Sam glowered from the bed. You shook your head, hoisting your bag onto your shoulder.

“No. I gotta get going.” In reality, you wanted to get home and take your suppressants, because every second in this room since you’d gotten here, your skin had been prickling with the scent of an Alpha, and with Dean back, it was only going to get worse. “Glad I could be some help. At least I’m square with Garth now.”

Sam was sitting forward from the headboard, watching you with a look you couldn’t discern and you moved towards the door, opening it to the early morning light. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and the red clouds cast an eerie glow over the motel parking lot. You smiled, looking back at them.

“Red sky in morning,” you started, taking one step onto the walkway, and a weight hit you hard, sending you to the concreted ground with a yelp of pain. You heard a shout and a thud, and then the weight was gone, three gunshots going off in quick succession before the gargled sound of a decapitation reached you.

Looking up, you tasted blood in your mouth, and you glanced down, seeing blood seeping through your shirt, staining your jacket slowly. A blade protruded from the side of your ribs, and you whimpered, closing your eyes against the pain.

“Shit, Y/N,” Dean grunted, skidding to your side, dropping his bloodied machete to the floor. “I didn’t think any of them were still alive…”

You cried out when he tried to remove the knife, and Sam called your name from inside the room. Dean glanced up, yelling for him to stay put. Blood was trickling from your wound now, and you could feel yourself getting lightheaded. “Dean,” you gasped.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be fine.” He wasn’t even looking at you, focusing on stemming the bleeding. Red tinged your vision, followed swiftly by black, and you lost consciousness.

*****

It was raining outside when you woke up. The pitter patter of the drops against the window made you wake up, and you realized you were in a moving vehicle. Plush leather underneath your cheek was almost sticky, and when you went to sit up, you grimaced in pain.

The car stank of Alpha.

A groan left you, and caught the attention of the driver, who turned to look at you, green eyes filled with concern and… irritation?

“What the hell?” you mumbled, managing to get yourself into a seated position, keeping your legs stretched as well as you could as not to aggravate your wound. “Where are we?”

“Had to get us out of there,” Dean grumbled in return, returning his eyes to the road. “Patched you up and hit the road.”

“My car -”

He cut you off, still not looking at you. “Garth’s getting someone to pick it up for you.”

You bit your bottom lip, your eyes falling to Sam, who was curled up in the front passenger seat, sweat clinging to his long hair, his breathing labored as he slept. “Is Sam okay?”

Dean made a noise that you couldn’t quite decipher, glancing over at his brother, before looking back through the soaked windshield, where the wipers struggled to keep up with the heavy downpour. “Sam’s in rut,” he replied, the tone of his voice indicating that he knew that pain all too well.

Confusion was your first emotion, and you shifted back towards the window, putting some distance between you and the slumbering giant. “But he’s a Beta.”

“I’m aware,” Dean growled through gritted teeth, his fingers turning white where he clutched the steering wheel. “Trust me, I know what’s happening to him. And don’t tell me you can’t scent it.”

You shrugged, picking at a thread on the shirt that definitely didn’t belong to you. “The vamp -”

“Trailed me back,” Dean acknowledged, sighing. “Thought I got them all. Thought wrong. He’s dead. There aren’t any more.”

“You said that last time,” you spat, feeling anger swell in your belly. There was something else there too; probably the effect of such close proximity to not one, but now two powerful Alphas. “Sam said he was Beta. He wasn’t -”

Dean cut you off again, his voice filled with a thin shred of temper. “Look, kid,” the title made you bristle, and you resisted the urge to punch him in the back of the head, “I know Sam better than anyone. We all thought he was Beta. He’s thirty-four - he shouldn’t be presenting like this. Not now. Only common denominator I can think of… is you.” He sighed, loosening his grip on the wheel a little. “Trust me, I woulda left you there when you’d woken up, but Sam… he wasn’t leaving without you.”

“What?” The word came out of you like a squeak.

“He nearly fucking tore my head off when I touched you,” Dean continued, scrubbing one hand over his face. “I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on, but all I know is that Sam wasn’t leaving without you, so you’re coming back to Kansas with us.”

You shook your head, your jaw slack as you focused on Sam, tracing the outline of his features with your eyes. “Dean, I’m not… he’s… what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Dean shrugged. “Figure that out when we get there, I guess.”

“That isn’t helpful.”

“Neither is my brother suddenly presenting as an Alpha twenty years too fucking late,” he yelled, slamming one hand on the steering wheel, and the old car shuddered at his touch. He fell silent, giving Sam one cursory glance before shaking his head. “Just… just shut up, okay? I need to think.”

You weren’t happy with that order, and with every passing moment, you seethed a little more. Sam was still out cold, but you could feel the fever coming off of him from the backseat. He was deep in rut, more deeply than you’d ever seen an Alpha. And everything in you wanted to take care of him, which was equal parts surprising and terrifying. Your Omega instincts had always been buried deep, but since the moment you’d laid eyes on the oversized hunter, you’d been struck by a need to look after him.

The most primal part of you wanted this. But the other parts? You weren’t so sure.

“Why aren’t you in rut?” you asked, suddenly, and Dean looked up at your reflection in the rearview. “If it’s me, shouldn’t I have made you… you know…”

His jaw clenched and his eyes flashed with something. “Gave up my right to an Omega a long time ago. I’m not an animal, Y/N.” He lowered his voice as Sam twitched in his seat. “And if you’re anyone’s Omega, it’s not mine.”

Sam’s eyes opened, and his glassy gaze landed immediately on you. “Y/N,” he rasped, before Dean’s hand was on his shoulder, pressing him back into his seat.

“Stay put, Sammy. Few hours and we’ll be home.” Dean removed his hand, trusting his brother to stay still. “Get you some meds, and you’ll be right as rain.” For his part, Sam looked bewildered but didn’t take his eyes off of you.

He didn’t need meds.

He needed an Omega.

And you were the only one in reach.

Without warning, he lurched over the seat, crashing into the back next to you with a wail of pain as his cast caught on the seat. He was too big for the move, and Dean cursed loudly as he swerved the car onto the grassy verge, braking hard, before jumping out. In an instant, he was soaked to the bone, and you panicked, trying to help Sam from where he was caught. Dean opened the rear door, dragging his brother fully into the back, carefully maneuvering him so his ankle was safely resting on the floor.

Immediately, the younger Winchester curled into you, wrapping his arms around your waist, being mindful of your wound. Dean watched, water running down his face to drip off of the end of his nose, before he rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut.

“Wanna be close,” Sam muttered, his breath hot against your skin where your shirt bunched under your breasts, and you sucked in a lungful of air, steeling yourself against his scent. You barely even noticed Dean getting back into the driver seat, or when he pulled away and continued on the road.

Sam filled every sense you had. His skin was warm and comforting, and even covered in sweat and squished into the back seat, he was gorgeous. His scent was everything you’d ever enjoyed - freshly baked cookies, clean linen and gunpowder - and it swamped your mind with the feeling of home. It felt like a blanket smothering you from reality.

Anxiety rose to the surface, and you shook yourself free of the instinctual response. Already, you were wet, and Sam’s pants did nothing to hide his arousal.

“No funny business back there,” Dean grunted from the front seat, shaking his head to clear the raindrops on his face. “I’m not into voyeurism.”

You looked around, your first thought being that Sam was so goddamn huge, there was no way you’d be able to get up to anything in the backseat of this ridiculously flashy car. That led to a few mental images, and you tried to swallow with the driest throat you’d ever had.

“We… that’s…” you stuttered, trying to deny his words, but fuck, if he wasn’t there, you thought you might have just stripped naked and ridden Sam into a lust-riddled oblivion. Sam nuzzled into your belly, making the ache between your thighs worse. “Maybe we should stop?” you suggested.

Dean didn’t reply immediately; then he sighed and hung his head briefly. “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Two rooms,” Dean grunted at the young spotty guy behind the motel check-in desk. The Sunny Upside was barely a one-star dive, but it was the first motel he’d seen since Y/N suggested stopping, and the vacancy sign might have been one from God for all he cared. The clerk handed over two sets of keys, swallowing visibly as Dean stormed off.

Y/N was sat stiffly in the car, with Sam half-snoozing on her lap. She looked absolutely terrified to move, and he could see where fresh blood had seeped through her bandages onto the shirt he’d put her in. Come to think of it, putting her in a shirt that reeked of Alpha probably wasn’t a good idea, but at least it was one of Sam’s and not one of his.

He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Sam thought Dean had touched her in any way he didn’t permit. It had been hard enough to get her injury stitched up with Sam practically vibrating across the room.

Luckily, her wound wasn’t too severe - straight through the flesh and not touching any of the organs beneath. She might have a few bruised ribs from the impact, but at least she wasn’t in danger of dying from it.

Dean opened the Impala’s trunk, grabbing his bag and Sam’s, before picking up Y/N’s as an afterthought. He pulled her door open a little violent, handing her one of the room keys. Sam grumbled an opposition to her movement, but Y/N managed to extricate herself, snatching her bag and then she was gone. Dean sighed as Sam woke up properly, eyes wide and confusion on his face.

“What -”

“Come on, big boy,” Dean snapped, not bothering to look up as he heard a door slam across the lot. At least it had stopped raining, so getting Sam inside wouldn’t be so awful. His brother put up no fight - his energy was mostly sapped by his need to heal, and his body fighting the effects of his first rut.

When they were finally inside, Dean helped Sam over to the bed, letting him adjust, before stepping back and watching him for a second.

“You okay?” he asked, gruffly, feeling a twinge of regret at his tone when Sam looked up at him with those big puppy dog eyes, utterly bewildered by the situation.

“I’ve been better,” Sam admitted, dragging a hand through his unkempt hair. “Dean, what the hell is this?”

“You’re in rut,” Dean replied, huffing and turning away to drop their bags on the table. He opened his own, grabbing the essentials for a shower. “Now, you gonna stay in here and rest, or do I have to chain you down by your cast?”

Sam swallowed, looking towards the wall, the one that Dean knew Y/N was on the other side of. She’d undoubtedly locked her door, and Dean felt guilty at the situation they’d dragged her into. If he’d only been happy with leaving Sam alone, his brother wouldn’t be suffering more, and she wouldn’t be in the middle of something she clearly wasn’t interested in having.

“Is Y/N okay?” Sam asked, catching Dean’s full attention again. “I didn’t mean to -”

“I know that Sam,” Dean assured him, scratching his head out of nervous habit. “And chances are, she does too. But she’s hurt, and this wasn’t what any of us were expecting.”

Sam glanced down at his ankle, feeling that itch under the plaster again, and he smiled as he remembered the plastic fork he’d tucked into his jacket from the last motel room. Fishing it out, he started to scratch underneath his cast, as Dean gave him a funny look and stormed off to the bathroom, leaving behind the echo of a “that’s gross”.

When the itch was sated, and the shower had turned on in the other room, Sam started to analyze everything, the way he always had. He knew he was in rut, that this electric, spiking feeling in every single one of his nerves was a need for his Omega, for Y/N, and she was so damn close. Not that he could get to her, and he didn’t want to scare her even more, but…

Just one touch.

All he needed.

Calling out to her wasn’t a good idea - Dean would hear him. And he knew she probably wouldn’t respond anyway. His entire being throbbed with want for her, and it was such a foreign experience, that it made him feel a little bit sick. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, not in such a physical, soul-deep way.

Staring at the plastic fork, Sam tried to focus on something, anything else. But he couldn’t. Whatever this was, whatever was churning up his insides and turning his entire life on its head, he couldn’t stop it.

He threw the fork, scowling at it where it landed on the stained motel carpet.

He needed answers.

*****

You couldn’t breathe.

Well, you could, but every breath just dragged more of his scent into your lungs and it was burning through you like a hit of coke. Standing up, you started to pace, your skin prickling with an urge you couldn’t identify. It was different to your heat, to anything you’d ever felt as Omega.

Sam was next door. Why was his scent so strong?

Looking down, you saw the bloodstain on the grey shirt that wasn’t yours. It was a v-neck, the material soft against your skin, and you realized that the scent was coming from you. The mouth-watering taste of him lingered on your tongue, and you freaked, tearing the shirt over your head with such force that the thin stitches on your side split and wept fresh blood.

A pained moan sent you to your knees, and you felt tears trickle from your closed eyes as you tried to gain your breath, not even noticing that despite ripping the shirt off, you clutched it tightly in your fists.

Not so easy to throw it away as you thought.

The stab wound hurt with every drag of air, and with difficulty, you got to your feet, stumbling to the bathroom. As you turned the shower on, the pipes rattled and creaked, before the water sputtered out of the limescale-covered shower head, running a thick murky brown for a second, then becoming crystal clear.

Normally, you were fussy about shower water - motels were not your favorite homes, which was why you operated out of a warded safe house. If you could avoid a motel, you would, and you weren’t ashamed to admit, you’d gone into one of the bigger chain hotels on more than one occasion to get away from the grime of roadside one-stars.

Right now, you didn’t even bother to strip your clothes off, climbing under the spray fully clothed, letting the tepid water soothe you as much as you could. You reached down, pushing your combat pants down your legs, kicking them away, and they landed in a soggy puddle with a squelch against the tiled floor.

The shirt was still in your fingers.

You threw it like it was a poisonous snake, backing under the water until your eyes stung. There wasn’t any shampoo as far as you could see, so you grabbed the suspicious looking bar of soap, scraping the edges off to reveal the fresh pink underneath.

The water ran with your blood and suds turned pink, and you didn’t stop until you felt clean. You washed away the congealed blood on your stomach and ribs, wincing when you saw the bruising underneath. Both your knees were scraped up, and one elbow had a concrete rash down it, little bits of black stone and debris lodged in the skin.

It was a slow process to identify and cleanse every wound. When you were finally done with all but the main one, you stopped, taking a breath and tipping your head backward in the shower. Blood was still slowly trickling from the wound, but you barely noticed as you languished under the spray.

You could still feel how much you wanted him.

How could one man have this effect on you? How could he not have known he was Alpha, not Beta?

It felt akin to a death sentence, but one where you got to fulfill every dream you’d ever had. Whatever happened next, it would change your life forever. You’d go from independent, the woman your mother had taught you to be, the girl who could fight monsters and take names. Omegas were submissive, meek; you’d never met one that didn’t look at her Alpha like a dog would do their master.

But… Sam didn’t seem that way. Neither Winchester matched the model of a typical Alpha. Hell, you could smell your own scent, seeping from the wetness between your thighs, and Dean hadn’t so much as batted an eyelid. Sam only sought out your touch, and comfort - while both of you were aroused by the act, there was barely anything sexual about it.

You’d heard the tales that these hunters were unlike any other, about the good they had done for the world, despite their faults. But you also knew the name of every hunter that had died in their presence - people you’d known and respected, and those who were only whispers on the tangled grapevine of hunter gossip. You didn’t want to be one of those names.

Pain lanced through your side, but it felt like a far away sensation. The blood was still tracing down your side, leaving your skin a shade of pink, before staining the water as it ran away. Your eyes rolled back, and you collapsed, hitting the bottom of the shower with an ugly thud.

*****

Sam wasn’t letting a little thing like a broken ankle stand in his way of finding out what had caused his rut. A quick browse of the internet revealed the answer, and he squinted at his phone screen, reading the article that seemed to describe exactly what was wrong with him.

Or right, as the case might have been.

Delayed presentation.

It affected around 1% of the population, and it was theorized that some Alphas and Omega never presented at all. Presentation was triggered by the presence of a compatible genetic mate, which sounded so cardboard that Sam grimaced at it. He didn’t like to think this was only to do with biology.

Another article suggested a far less scientific theory. True mates. Pairings that were stronger and meant to be, and while Sam thought the idea was far more attractive than his body simple sensing a suitable mate, it hurt a little to think that Jessica had never triggered his presentation. He’d loved her with everything he’d had, in a way he’d never loved anyone before, yet the infancy of the pull he felt towards Y/N was stronger than even that.

Dean turned the shower off, and Sam heard him rummaging around in the bathroom. Another sound filtered through the two thin motel walls, and Sam realized it was the shower in the adjoining room. The thought of Y/N, naked and wet under the spray made every ounce of his blood run south, and he groaned, leaning forward.

Then the sound of a thump made his blood run cold, and he shivered, staring at the opposite wall, feeling that something was very wrong.

At that moment, Dean emerged, dressed in dry clothing, rubbing a towel against his short hair in an attempt to dry it. “Oh, good. You’re still in here.” Sam didn’t reply, staring intently at the wall. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, his voice incredibly quiet. He was straining to listen, hearing nothing but the faint spray from next door, and his worry only increased. “Dean, she’s hurt and -”

“I can go check,” Dean announced, heading for the door, stopping abruptly when Sam shouted at him.

“Don’t.” The younger Winchester’s tone was commanding, and Dean felt the instinct inside him rise up, daring to challenge his brother. For so long, he’d been the Alpha, and Sam had been his family, his unit. Now there was a threat to that; Sam being an Alpha was dangerous, especially with an Omega in the middle. Not that Dean had any attraction to Y/N - but he knew Sam wouldn’t see it like that.

“Sam, I’m just gonna -”

“No,” Sam affirmed, the steel of his voice bouncing off the walls and making Dean grind his teeth together. “Help me up.”

“Sam -”

“Help. Me. Up.”

Dean reeled back, scowling as he stomped over the bed, hooking one hand under Sam’s armpit, hoisting him off the bed. “You’re an idiot,” he muttered, but Sam ignored him, hopping towards the door as quickly as he could. It wouldn’t have taken so long for Dean to get in there, but Sam was insistent, waiting while Dean picked the lock on the adjoining room’s door.

The smell of blood hit Sam like a brick wall, and he pushed forward, releasing his hold on his brother. Hopping in the direction of the bathroom, he flung the door open and wobbled as his balance became unequal. Dean was right behind him, mirroring expressions of horror on their faces when they saw the crumpled female form on the shower floor, blood steadily seeping into the now-cold water.

Ankle forgotten, Sam lurched forward, falling to his knees and reaching for her. Dean stepped over him, turning the shower off and ignoring Y/N’s nudity as Sam dragged her free of the floor level shower, his hands running over where she’d been injured. “She pulled the stitches out,” he muttered, cupping the wound gently.

Dean threw a towel down, covering her, before reaching to pick her up, only to be met with a growl from his brother. “You wanna try, Sir-Limp-A-Lot?” he spat, elbowing Sam out of the way and ignoring the displeased scowl. “Look, I’m not interested okay? So put your dick away and let’s get her patched up.”

Sam nodded, but his expression didn’t fade until Dean had Y/N on the bed, the towel covering most of her modesty. He hopped to the bed and sat down, watching as Dean darted out of the room, no doubt to fetch the medical supplies. When he came back, he almost tripped over Y/N’s bag, and cursed at it loudly.

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” Sam whispered, snatching the medical kit from his brother’s hands, and Dean rolled his eyes. “I can do this,” he insisted, receiving no protest from the elder man. “I’ve stitched you up plenty.”

“I did a good job. Why did she pull them out?”

“I don’t know,” Sam replied, focusing on what he was doing. The bleeding was slowing out of the effects of the water, but it was still oozing down her side, staining her skin with congealed scarlet waves. “You said it wasn’t bad.”

“It wasn’t,” Dean grunted, sitting at one of the chairs. “You diving over the seats to her probably didn’t help.”

Sam’s cheeks turned red, but he didn’t reply and both of them sat in silence as he stitched up the wound. He wondered briefly how his hands weren’t shaking when it felt like the rest of him was on a high vibration setting - just being this close to her was affecting him in ways he’d never felt.

“You should go and get some food. For all of us. Something bland for her, and a carton of orange juice.”

Dean blinked at the order. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t be like that,” Sam mumbled, glancing upwards. “I’m just -”

“I know, I know.” Dean sighed and stood up, running a hand through his still damp hair. “Just… don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“Define stupid,” Sam requested, looking back to his patient. “I’m not gonna jump her bones right here, Dean. She’s injured and I’m not exactly in top form.” The look on Dean’s face indicated that he didn’t quite trust that, but he decided against a response, and left the room, closing the door behind him. Sam finished the stitches, cleaning up the wound, satisfied with his work. Glancing at Y/N’s face, he reached up, cupping it gently. “Wake up for me, darlin’.”

She didn’t.


	4. Chapter 4

Your side ached. The pain was less than you remembered, but it was definitely still tender, the bruising echoing through your body to join the headache rapidly building behind your eyes. As you slowly opened your eyes, realizing you were fully clothed, Sam’s face came into view, concern written all over his features.

“There she is.” You whipped your head to the side, where the voice had come from, only to find Dean sat in a chair opposite the bed. “We were starting to think Sammy would have to kiss you to wake you up.”

The younger Winchester ducked his head, blushing as he spoke his brother’s name in a scolding tone. His eyes met yours through a curtain of hair, and he pursed his lips lightly. “I wasn’t gonna kiss you.”

“I probably wouldn’t have minded,” you whispered in an instant response, stuttering as you realized what you’d said. The blush on Sam’s cheeks deepened, and Dean laughed, standing up.

“Can’t even blame the drugs for that one,” he pointed out, as you grimaced at the renewed ache in your middle. “Well, now that we know you don’t need true love’s kiss, I’m gonna head out and top up our supplies. You bleed a lot.” His eyes were fixed on yours, and you scowled.

“Fuck you,” you spat, but it came out weak.

Dean’s laughter increased, and he shook his head. “Got your hands full there, Sam!” The motel room door closed with a click, and suddenly, you and Sam were alone.

He shifted awkwardly on the bed, altogether close and not close enough. His fingers were resting near enough to feel the presence of them, but not for you to feel the warmth of his actual touch. God, you wanted that.

“I’m sorry about him,” Sam said, slowly, like he was trying to gauge your reaction. “He’s worried.”

“He would be,” you replied, shrugging lightly. “He’s your brother. And until a few hours ago, he was your Alpha.”

Sam looked a little put out by that, stuttering. “I know we wear a lot of flannel but we’re not that kind of family, Y/N, he’s not -”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “He’s your Pack Alpha, dumbass.” He fell quiet and you shifted your hand, finally touching his fingers. A wave of comfort flowed into you, and you blinked slowly a few seconds, unable to take your eyes off of him. “Dean’s the eldest. He’s - he was, the Alpha. Now there’s a contender, and he’s overcompensating for the fact that he might lose you.”

“Might?” Sam asked, and for a second, you thought he was okay with that.

“No,” you responded in a whisper. His face crumpled in dismay, and you knew he thought you meant that Dean wouldn’t lose him because you wouldn’t stay. In truth, you weren’t entirely sure that wasn’t the truth. It was too soon for you to make that decision.

It might always be too soon.

“I mean that you won’t lose him. Whatever this is, whatever is happening here, you’ll always be with Dean. I wouldn’t expect any different from the stories I’ve seen.” You paused, looking away as you added to the statement. “Or the ones I’ve read online.”

The way his face darkened underlined for you that he was entirely aware of the existence of those books, and you offered him a lopsided grin. 

“At least I know most of your stories,” you insisted. “And some of them were really helpful when I came across a monster I didn’t recognize. Not all of us had a handy journal.”

Sam’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he sighed. “Oh. I guess… never thought of it that way. I didn’t think those books would help hunters - they were just… embarrassing.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t agree with some of the shit you guys did,” you started. “And it freaks me out a little that even some of that is true -”

“They’re all true,” Sam interrupted, looking even more ashamed. “We read a couple. They were written by God, actually, and every word was exactly what happened.” You stared at him in shock, before thinking back to some of the more unrealistic things you’d struggled to swallow when you’d read the books. They had a huge cult following, and you’d always wondered what happened to the boys after Purgatory. No more books had come out online for years, although one Reddit user had an interesting theory on what happened to the Winchesters and their adventures along the way.

“Wait…” you stopped, thinking of that thread. “You told me about Dean being a demon. About Metatron and The Darkness. Those were all theories on that Reddit thread.” Sam’s cheeks tinged again, and he looked away. “Oh my god. You… you’re Impala7883!”

He shook his head, looking alarmed. “No, it’s Dean. I mean, I knew about it, but we had a case a couple of years ago, and Dean got pissed at the fan theories he heard and…” His eyes lowered, and he looked like a small boy being scolded. “We got drunk and decided to see what the fans thought of what actually happened.”

“That’s adorable,” you blurted out, laughter making you whine in pain. Sam frowned, reaching for you, but you waved him off, taking deep breaths to control your humor. “You two act like you’re big bad hunter legends, and you’re both online writing fanfiction about yourselves!”

The door to the motel room opened abruptly, and Sam jumped up, immediately falling backward, his cast catching on the bed. He went down with a thud, and you called out to him, crawling without thinking about your wound. You tumbled off of the edge of the single bed, landing on top of the stricken Alpha, as both of you tried to figure out who had opened the door.

“I got pancakes!” Dean announced, frowning when he realized the bed was empty. Sam’s long legs poked out from the other side, and a second later, your head popped up, your embarrassed expression making him scowl. “Seriously, guys, I was gone for ten minutes.”

“No!” Sam cried out. “We weren’t - the door opened and I freaked and fell, and Y/N fell and -”

“Uh-huh,” Dean grunted, folding his arms over his chest and sticking his tongue into the side of his mouth with an unimpressed expression. “Wanna try that again?”

You moaned in pain as you climbed up off of Sam, dropping onto the bed. Dean placed his treasures down on the table, before fishing a bottle of pills out of his shopping bag. The younger hunter struggled to his feet, returning to his spot on the bed, reaching down to scratch at his cast. “Lost your fork?” you teased, and Sam managed a small smile.

“What were you two talking about then?” Dean asked, bringing you over a paper plate of pancakes with bacon and syrup. You seized on the food, not realizing how hungry you were until the scent of delicious batter and sugar wafted to you. 

“Your aspiring talents as a fanfiction writer,” you replied casually, and Dean choked on the piece of bacon he’d just bitten into. His eyes watered, and he raised them to stare accusingly at his brother.

Sam held his hands up. “I didn’t say anything, she guessed!”

The accusing gaze shifted to you, and you smiled sweetly. “Awww, I thought your stories were really good.” Accusation turned to murder, and that only made you laugh. “So, tell me about your bunker.”

*****

Y/N had fallen asleep in the backseat of the car when they left the next morning. Dean had been so damn careful not to leave them alone, his worry at what Sam would do in the midst of rut his main concern. But if anything, Sam and Y/N had grown comfortable around each other, laughing and joking as if Dean were the third wheel.

He was kinda glad she’d passed out from her injury.

Sam was grumpy without her to talk to, on the other hand. He was still sweating buckets, but when he’d tried to sleep, he’d just complained, until Dean turned the music up and wound down the windows. In the back, Y/N didn’t even stir, but Sam gave him a dirty look anyway.

“How the hell do you deal with this four times a year, Dean?” He was complaining again, and Dean rolled his eyes, huffing gently. “Just the scent of her…”

“I don’t have that problem, for one,” Dean replied, shaking his head, but he glanced in the rearview mirror anyway, watching the way Y/N rocked in the backseat as they went over a pothole. Damn, that was a deep one. He’d have to watch out so he didn’t damage Baby’s rims. “I seek out the women, so I can escape the smell of ‘em.”

“Is that supposed to be a subtle hint that she isn’t allowed to stay?” Sam asked, grinning, one eyebrow arched high into his sweaty brow.

“She’s not a pet dog, Sam,” the elder Winchester replied, gritting his teeth. “Omegas are people too, Sam. You of all people -”

“Jeez, Dean, I was kidding. Trust me, I’ve seen the stuff on the news. Like I’m gonna treat someone differently because of their genetics. Hell, I had demon blood in me for most of my life - how can I say someone else is inferior?”

Dean’s teeth audibly ground together as he fought the urge to reach over and slap his brother around the head. The younger man may have all the intelligence of a thousand libraries, but damn he could be the dimmest light in the house. Always thinking he’s not good enough, falling back on what happened so long ago, Dean struggled to pull it forward as anything other than some hellish nightmare.

“Do I need to tell you to shut up?” Dean warned, looking out of the corner of his eye at his brother. Sam sighed, knowing that Dean was probably preparing his list of “all the ways you’re awesome” - it was an actual list, he’d seen it - and he shook his head. “Good.”

Y/N made a noise in her sleep, and Sam’s head whipped around so fast, Dean was near sure it was going to fly off. When the slumbering Omega calmed, snuggling further into his leather seats, Dean calmed, tutting loudly.

“All I’m worried about, Sam, is you. Like always.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that you’re not the Alpha anymore?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, and he glared at the road like it was to blame. As if in response, the heavens opened and rain started to splash against the windshield. “Always fucking raining,” he grumbled, turning the wipers on. “I’m still your elder, Sam, so as far as I’m concerned, I’m always the Alpha. And no. This is about her coming home with us. If you bond to her, how much of a price does that put on her head?”

Sam tensed, like he hadn’t considered that, his eyes sliding back to Y/N’s still form. The car hit another pothole, and Dean swore loudly, feeling something tear and pop on his side of the car. As it swerved to a halt, the rain got harder, and he looked up in despair.

“Not my fucking day, is it?” he asked, directing the question at nobody in particular. He climbed out, grunting to himself the whole while, and Sam watched him walk around the car. There was no use him even offering to help - his ankle made that impossible.

Y/N stirred again, yawning and rolling over so she was facing the front, a sleepy look on her face. She struck Sam as beautiful and adorable all in one hit, and he smiled goofily, unable to control his reaction to her. “Where are we? Are we here? How long was I out?” She didn’t even breathe between questions.

“Relax. We got a flat. Dean’s just changing it.”

She turned, looking out the back and seeing nothing but Baby’s raised trunk as the car shook from Dean pulling the spare out of the back. He was cursing under his breath as he went, and Y/N flinched when he slammed the trunk down. “We should help him,” she muttered, glancing at Sam. “Oh, you’re…”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “But you’re hurt too. I guarantee you, you get out of this car, Dean will bite your head off and tell you to sit your ass down.”

There was a skeptical look on her face, and she looked back at Dean, chewing her lip. Everything inside her was loathe to be rude and not at least offer.

Ignoring Sam’s advice, she grabbed the door handle, pulling it until the door clicked and opened a few inches -

“What the hell are you doing?” Dean yelled, over the sound of the pouring rain.

“I wanted to see if you needed help,” she replied, timidly, the front of her top getting wet from the drips of rain hammering into the car.

“You’ve got a goddamn hole in your side!” he growled, still working on removing the flat tire. “So get back in!” Y/N scrambled back, wincing as her side throbbed, and Dean’s hand shot out, slamming the door shut.

“Told ya,” Sam chuckled, a shit-eating grin on his face.

She pouted, and settled back down on the seat. “He’s gonna get sick.” Her eyes were full of worry and Sam suddenly felt irrational jealousy swell in his chest. He’d felt it before - every time Dean went near her, touched her - he wanted to rip his own brother’s hands off.

“He’ll be fine,” he grunted, turning back to look out of the windscreen.

Silence filled the car, and Sam heard her shuffling around behind him. A second later, slim fingers landed on his shoulder, and he blinked, looking up at her reflection in the rearview. “How are you feeling?” she asked, the question making him feel warm all over. An awkward smile cast itself over his face, and he pushed down his jealousy. “You seem a little pale.”

“I’m good,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “Just eager to get home to my bed. Put my… foot up.”

She smiled at that, and that warmed him even more. God, he had it bad. Her fingers were still on his shoulder, and he fought down the need to touch her back. His mind was conjuring up images of her, nude and begging underneath him, filled with his knot, his mark on her neck -

Y/N cleared her throat, snatching her hand back, and the unmistakable scent of arousal reached his nose. His cock throbbed, trapped in his pants, and he shifted in his seat, trying to relieve the discomfort.

The car dropped, and there was a second of nothing but the rain, and then Dean was slamming the trunk shut and stomping back to the driver side door. He threw his coat across the back, where it landed with a soggy thud, and Y/N grimaced, shrinking away from it.

“Right,” Dean started, sucking in a breath, and Sam saw the instant he recognized the scent. His nostrils flared, and his pupils dilated, and he fixed his eyes on Sam with suspicion. “I miss something?”

“No,” Y/N instantly provided, and Sam shook his head, trying to cover his erection with his hands. Dean didn’t seem to notice, but he was still aware of the lingering smell in the air. With a disbelieving grunt, he turned the engine on, and pulled the car away from the verge.


	5. Chapter 5

The bunker was an imposing building, hidden off a long driveway with trees surrounding it for miles. Although it was only a little way out of town, it was secluded enough and camouflaged by woodland that was - according to Dean who’d gotten too drunk to drive one night had to walk home - thick, overgrown and riddled with dangers.

You couldn’t help but laugh when Sam told you that Dean had managed to find three bear traps and a “rabid” squirrel on the way home that night. Dean insisted the squirrel  _ was _ rabid, and would have torn his throat out if he hadn’t run as fast as he could.

On top of the bunker, rested what looked like a fully functioning automated hydro plant. The river was close by, so that would make sense, and when you enquired if that was how they got power, you were surprised that Dean just shrugged.

“How long have you lived here?” you asked, hugging the three bags to your chest and watching him fumble with a little wooden box, sliding a thin, ancient-looking key from it.

“Few years. It’s home base. Safe,” he added, glancing up at you. “Warded from pretty much everything.” You nodded, moving back as Dean tugged the door open. “I better get Sam out of the car. Stay here?”

“Sure,” you replied, your eyes following him as he trudged back to the Impala, both him and Sam grumbling at each other. The younger brother held onto the older one tightly, trying not to put any weight on the cast around his ankle.

Eventually, they made it back to the door, and you reacted to Sam’s clumsy smile with your own red cheeks, waiting for them to pass before following them in. “Shut the door behind you,” Dean called. “I gotta come back up to put Baby to bed.”

You shrugged, doing as he asked, before trotting down the stairs after them. As you stepped into the light from the stairwell, your eyes went wide, and you looked up to the huge ceiling of the war room, trailing your gaze down the art-deco style walls. On the floor below the sweeping balcony you stood on, was a lit up table with a map on it, like something you’d see in Captain America.

“Whoa,” you murmured, as Dean and Sam turned to grin at your impressed expression. “This is like a Batcave.”

Dean looked triumphantly towards his brother, and Sam rolled his eyes in response, dragging his weight towards the stairs so Dean had to follow.

Once downstairs, the immensity of the place was even more evident. From the marblesque stone walls, to the war-time equipment lining the walls, it was sleuth grandeur at its finest. The brothers hopped off down one corridor, and you hurried to keep up, blinking when you saw a telescope hidden away in an alcove.

“You have a telescope?!” you exclaimed, barely hearing Dean chuckle over the sound of your own footsteps.

The place wasn’t without its dents - one of the walls, on a corridor that split off in a different direction, had a gaping hole in the plaster, where something had collided with it. There were scorch marks and bullet holes, and you were fairly certain you saw patches of blood that had stained into the wall.

Turning a corner, Dean stopped by a door, using his foot to push it open. “This is Sam’s room. Mine’s down there,” he jerked his head backwards, “and you can pick one of the others.”

You stared, a little dumbfounded, nodding in acknowledgement as he started to get Sam into his room. Turning around, you came face to face with another door, and you opened it. “I suppose this is as good as anything else,” you muttered, stepping inside, pulling your bag free from the bundle in your arms and tossing it towards the bed.

“I’ve got your -” You turned, walking straight into Dean, who towered over you, and made you feel exceptionally small for a second. “-bags,” you finished, voice a whisper, wide eyes focusing on him. His scent was strong, almost  _ too _ strong, and you jumped backwards like you’d stood on a live wire. “Sorry.”

“My fault,” Dean replied, avoiding your gaze, his cheeks turning red. “Er, the showers are down there,” he pointed to the right down the corridor, “and kitchen is back the way we came. I can give you the tour later; you don’t wanna go wandering in here on your own.”

You swallowed, looking around him to see Sam across the hall. Dean smelled like him. Your mouth watered, and Dean moved back away from you.

“You sure you want this room?” he asked, clearly a little worried about your proximity to Sam. You nodded, set on your decision. “Okay. Well, holler if you need anything.”

“I will,” you assured him, leaving the door open as he left, returning to Sam. You tried to ignore their chatter from the other room, the hushed tones, and Sam sounding angry. Focusing on your bag, you unpacked the few things you actually brought with you, before looking around the room. A quick search of the cupboards revealed some fresh sheets for the comfy-looking bed, and you dragged out your spare set of clothes, lamenting the fact that your overnight bag was still in the trunk of your car.

Footsteps behind you made you turn, just in time to see Dean walk off down the corridor. Sam was alone in his room, and you dared to tip over enough to see him. He was laid flat, his leg propped up, eyes closed, and hands folded neatly across his chest.

He had very big hands.

A shudder travelling down your spine, and you quickly darted across the room, shutting it firmly. It did absolutely nothing to conceal the scent of him, that permeated your every nerve and made your skin prickle with anticipation.

“Sleep,” you said aloud, closing your eyes tightly for a moment. “Sleep is what I need. In a bed. With covers.” You nodded, opening your eyes again. That’s all you needed. A good night’s sleep.

*****

You couldn’t sleep.

Well, you had, for an hour or two, before you’d rolled onto your side and woken yourself up with extreme pain. Now, you were staring at the ceiling in the dark, your only companion the sound of the television from Sam’s room.

Where Sam was.

Right there.

It was like a magnet in your belly, drawn to him, making you want to get up and just  _ see _ him. Before you could stop yourself, you were across the room, turning the door handle to peek into the hallway. The lights were on, and soft music played from somewhere down the hall, but there were no other signs of life. Sam’s door was closed but you could smell him distinctly, and you inhaled deeply.

You didn’t want to try and figure out how the scent of him, thick and sweet like mangoes, made you rub your thighs together. Your fingers clenched around the door handle, and you opened it a little more, daring to step from the carpeted floor of the bedroom onto the tiled corridor. With no socks, the floor was cold, but you barely noticed it.

Sam was just beyond that door. And you could hear him now, tossing and turning as much as he could, frustrated groans wrenching at your heart. His rut was causing him pain.

Your fingers closed around the handle to his door, and you turned, slowly, holding your breath as it swung open.

He was lying awkwardly on his side, with his injured leg stretched out and propped up on pillows. His back was facing you, his shoulder hunched and tensed, and you froze in the doorway, letting go of the door and allowed it to open wide of its own accord.

The scent of Alpha almost knocked you off of your feet. He was deep, deeper than you’d ever seen an Alpha in rut. Sweat patches dotted the fabric of his thin shirt, and his jeans were crumpled over the edge of the bed, one leg still caught around his cast.

You knew the second he realized you were there. His body shifted, and he rolled, jerking his neck into an awkward angle, searching you out with those soulful eyes. When he caught you in his sights, his pupils dilated, and there was disbelief in his expression, like you weren’t real.

The word he uttered couldn’t be distinguished, but it pushed you into motion. You approached the bed, reaching down with both hands, tugging his jeans the rest of the way off, before repositioning his ankle on the pillow. Sam just watched, breathing heavily, little beads of sweat rolling down his forehead to drip off the end of his nose.

He was in pain, and you couldn’t stand it.

Circumventing the bed, you kneeled on the mattress, keeping your eyes locked on his. When you laid down, he raised his arm automatically, and you scooted into the space at his side, curling into him. “Thank you,” Sam whispered, kissing the top of your head. His close proximity made your insides flip uncomfortably, and you pretended not to notice the swelling in the front of his boxers. Instead, you nuzzled into him, seeking comfort from his scent and warmth.

He didn’t say anything else, and slowly, you felt the tension seep out of him, and his breathing eased into a steady rhythm. His heart was strong under your cheek, and you smiled, letting your own eyes flutter closed.

*****

“Sam?” Dean’s voice roused you from sleep, and you peeled your cheek off of the sticky skin underneath it. You pushed up with your hands, the body underneath you groaning as you moved, and you looked up with panic on your face.

The elder Winchester was scowling at the picture in front of him, and Sam opened his eyes, blinking away sleep and sweat from them. “Dean?” he croaked, groaning in pain.

“Shit,” you cursed, reaching to feel his forehead. He arched into your touch, and you snatched your hand back like he was on fire. Which he kinda was. “His fever is running high, Dean.”

“It wouldn’t be if you stayed put,” Dean snapped, storming over to the bed. He tested Sam’s temperature as you scrambled backwards, hissing as you wrenched your side. “Don’t you dare tear those fucking stitches again.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you bit back, fisting your hands at your sides. Sam whined, the sound so pitiful and broken that your rage just vanished, replaced with overwhelming concern. “Sam -”

“No,” Dean warned, shaking his head. “You need to go.”

“Go?”

“You, being here… it was a stupid idea. The longer you’re here, the worse it will get. He can’t push through the rut with an Omega so close.”

You shook your head, your mouth agape. “Dean, I’m not just gonna -”

His head snapped up, and the look in his eyes was almost murderous. You stepped back, tears filling your eyes, and it physically hurt to tear your eyes away from Sam’s shaking body. Fear and dread pooled in your belly as Dean stared you down, and you turned, fleeing towards the open door and into the room you’d picked last night.

“Sssh, Sam, it’s gonna be okay…” You blocked out Dean’s soothing words to his brother, hoping that you were making the right choice. It took seconds to throw on some clothes and pack what little you had. 

It took what felt like years to walk away from Sam, from the bunker.

You were two miles away from them when the dam broke. Collapsing to your knees in the mud and grass, you let your bag slide from your shoulder, curling down into your knees as the howl of pain in your belly bubbled its way upwards. Birds flew from trees when you exhaled the mournful sound, clutching your belly like someone had ripped your insides out.

It didn’t matter that you knew the stories. You were stupid and foolish, believing that there might be a light at the end of this gruesome tunnel. But just like every other time you’d glimpsed something good…

...it turned out to be a train.

*****

Sam wasn’t getting better.

His fever was 105 and he was refusing food, water - everything Dean offered. After three hours of thrashing and crying, Sam finally passed out, and Dean watched him from the doorway, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“It’s better this way,” he whispered, trying to convince himself that sending Y/N away was really the best option. It was, he knew it had to be. He couldn’t risk Sam breaking when he lost her. They’d both broken too much already, and Y/N had known the risks. She’d known exactly what they were about and she was smart for running.

So why was a part of him disappointed that she hadn’t fought?

Sam stirred and grunted, reaching out to the empty side of the bed. His fingers closed around nothing, and her name fell from his lips in a whimper. Dean felt sick.

Turning away, he looked through the open door of where Y/N had slept. The sheets were still rumpled, and there was bloody clothing on the floor. The scent of her was everywhere, and Dean frowned, realizing that Sam could still smell her. It was only going to prolong his pain.

Quickly, he moved, clearing away the clothes and the sheets, dragging them out to the front of the bunker. They burned easily enough, and he returned inside to start cleaning, using the strong citrus cleaner that Sam couldn’t stand. It produced a thick and pungent aroma - strong enough to cover any scent.

By the time he was done, Sam was awake. His fever was down a degree or two, and Dean sighed in relief when he pulled the thermometer away, smiling at his brother.

“See? Knew you were gonna be fine.”

Sam blinked up at him, still not completely clear of his feverish symptoms. “Where’s Y/N?” he asked, and Dean’s smile tightened.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Dean muttered, pushing on Sam’s shoulder when he tried to lift himself off the bed. “Your ankle, Sam. You need to stay off of it, and you need to get through this rut.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” he asked, and Dean grinned lewdly, making Sam cringe. “Dude, I’m not using your toys. Those things are -”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with them,” Dean protested, shrugging. “I mean, I don’t mind picking you up some pretty Omega at a bar if you want?” The look on Sam’s face indicated his unhappiness with that idea, and Dean swallowed. “Sam…”

“Where’s Y/N?” Sam asked, pressing him, and Dean shook his head, stammering awkwardly. “Dean, I swear to God -”

“She left,” Dean blurted out. “Sam, she had to go. Being around you was making it worse, and I couldn’t let -” he paused, sucking a breath, “- I couldn’t watch you get ripped apart when another person you love gets taken from you. It hurts when it’s just love, man. When it’s a bond like that… you wish you’d died with them.”

Sam stared at him, confusion and anger strewn across his features, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. “And since when do you get to make my decisions, Dean? She was here, with me. Nothing happened. But it didn’t fucking hurt when she was here.”

“It would have,” Dean argued, turning away, pulling at his short hair in frustration. “Her being here was a death sentence.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make, Dean!”

Sam wanted to throttle him. He wanted to get up and tower over Dean and punch him for sending away the one thing that kept the razors inside from tearing him apart. But he couldn’t. So, he picked up the lamp on his bedside table, hurling it at his brother and completely missing his shot.

“Go find her.” His voice was low and threatening, and Dean’s eyes widened as he looked from the broken lamp to his little brother.

“I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“Go. Find. Her.” Sam repeated the words slowly, his eyes never wavering from Dean’s. The elder Winchester didn’t move for a moment, simply staring at his little brother, seeing the anguish and pain lurking in them. Dean started to shake his head, and Sam punched the bed, practically roaring in anger. “Goddammit, Dean! She’s out there, alone and hurt. Bring her back!”

“She’s a good hunter, she’ll be -”

“You don’t know that!” Sam interrupted with a cry, thumping his hand into the mattress again. “She could be bleeding out somewhere, monster chow in a fucking ditch, and all you care about is making sure you don’t have to deal with me when I’m in mourning!”

Dean was stunned into silence, and the frown seemed to melt onto his face, his lips parting as he went to deny his brother’s words.

“This isn’t about me getting hurt, Dean. I get hurt. Big deal; it’s not the first time.” Sam leaned forward, his expression changing to an earnest look. “You’re basing everything on a future that might never happen.”

“Sammy,” Dean started.

“Don’t Sammy me,” was the growled interruption, and Dean’s frown deepened. “How long has she been gone?”

Dean shrugged. “Seven or eight hours, I’m not sure.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t exactly keeping track of time, Sam. I was busy cleaning -”

Sam’s eyes narrowed to thin slits, and he jerked his head to the side. “Cleaning?” He paused, inhaling deeply, almost coughing on the thick citrus scent. “You… got rid of her scent?” For a moment, Dean thought his brother was going to puke, the paleness of his face giving away his feelings about what Dean had done. “Why?”

“It was gonna make it worse, Sam,” Dean explained, holding his hands flat in front of him. “I’ve been where you are. Dealing with a rut, it’s harder when you have -”

“You don’t know jack!” Sam yelled, propelling himself forward, forgetting about his ankle for split second, almost toppling to the floor. “You always do this! Make decisions for me, about what’s best, about -”

“Sam, if she’d stayed, she would have died!” Dean shouted back, his hands' fists now at his sides as Sam pushed himself back upright, glaring at him. “You know our life. You know how this always ends. Jess, Amelia, Lisa - it’s the same goddamn story every time!”

“This is different,” Sam insisted, his fingers clenching in the sheets as his anger swelled in his chest. “Y/N is a hunter, she’s -” Dean shook his head, beginning to turn away. “Dean, I’m not a fucking child! I’m not the little kid you gotta protect at all costs!”

The side-eye his big brother gave him was enough to set Sam’s jaw into a tight grimace, and Dean laughed mirthlessly. “We don’t get that fairytale, Sam. It’s just you and me. Y/N -”

“Y/N was my Omega, Dean. Mine. You saw it. When she was here… it didn’t hurt. And now, she’s out there, injured and alone. What kind of Alpha does that make me?” Sam’s voice was cracking now, painfully, and his eyes were filling with tears. Dean remembered feeling that, a long time ago. He’d felt like he was the most useless example of an Alpha, and now, he was a terrible example of a brother.

Sam wasn’t looking at him anymore - he was staring at his legs, bottom lip almost trembling. She’d been gone for hours, there was no telling where she was now. Dean didn’t have a hope in hell of finding her.

“I’ll call Cas.”

“He hasn’t answered for days, Dean,” Sam replied, not moving and sounding utterly defeated. Dean sighed, unsure what to do or say - it wasn’t like he could turn back time and take back the words he’d said to her. She was gone, and Sam was suffering… but he’d get over it.

Eventually.

Maybe he’d always hate Dean for it, but they’d done far worse to each other in the past.

He’d get over it. He had to.


	6. Chapter 6

Two days dragged past miserably. You’d managed to hitch a ride with a creepy trucker northeast into Iowa before you’d felt the first twinges of your heat. Ditching the trucker, who’d leered at your breasts one too many times, you’d walked the last two miles into Sioux City, before finding a motel in a business district that looked half-abandoned.

Twenty bucks a night meant barely-working showers and filthy sheets, but you didn’t care. It was quiet, and the television picked up three channels, which gave you some noise to listen to. Luckily, one channel was National Geographic, so you settled in to watch a documentary about snow leopards, giving your suppressants time to kick in.

A few hours later, and it became clear to you the drugs weren’t working. You fought through the pain, getting yourself cleaned up and redressed your wound, which was angry and sore. Ordering food was out of the question as your phone battery was dead as a doornail; your charger was still plugged into the wall at the bunker. You’d have to go outside.

It was raining when you opened the door and stepped out into the cold night air. You hugged yourself with your arms, careful not to aggravate your injury, and limped down towards the motel entrance. The clerk didn’t even look up from his comic when you slipped in the door, and when you stood in front of his desk, it took clearing your throat to get his attention.

“Yeah?” he grunted, still not looking up.

“Is there a Walmart or something around here?” you asked, and the guy raised his eyes without raising his head.

“Two blocks down, one block over. Can’t miss it.” His gaze returned to his comic, and you nodded, grimacing tightly.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, turning back to the door and huddling further into your coat as you slowly walked out of the motel parking lot and onto the street. There didn’t seem to be many people about this time of the evening - not that you had a clue exactly what time it was. The moon was hanging in the clear sky like a beacon, so it had to be fairly late.

Thank god for 24-hour stores. Walmart was lit up green when you turned the corner, and relief stung your insides. The greeter smiled at you warmly as you walked in, his aged expression turning to concern when you hobbled through the door.

You ignored it.

A basket full of painkillers, first aid supplies and a phone charge later, you lingered in the clothing section, finding a handful of plain shirts and pants, tossing in some underwear for good measure. Your belly rumbled, compounding the painful cramps that were starting to make your core ache, and you looked over to the food aisles.

Being in heat and going hungry would only make it last longer. You had to eat, even if you didn’t want anything.

“Chips. Chips are good,” you muttered, walking past the Doritos before landing on your old favorite. Three bags of Chips Ahoy went in the basket, along with three bottles of water and an energy drink.

The cashier rang everything up as you stood there, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. The sooner you could get back to the motel room, the better. You just wanted out of the bright lights and too many people and -

There was an Alpha here.

Your senses were overloaded, and you gasped, bending double when a cramp seized your insides like an iron fist. The cashier stopped scanning, standing from her chair to look over at you. “Miss, are you okay?”

You couldn’t reply. Everything hurt. Your eyes became unfocused and it seemed like tunnel vision, joining the high pitched wail in your ears.

The wail was you.

Something hard hit your head, and you realized it was the floor as people stood over you. Things were starting to go black, and goddamn you were so cold. Someone was calling for help, and the fuzzy sound of the tannoy pinging made you curl inwards into yourself. The action tore your stitches, and blood started to pool underneath you, leaking through your thin shirt.

The last thing you remembered, was Sam’s face, swimming in your vision like a mirage.

*****

Sam hadn’t spoken to him for two days. All Dean got was grunts and one-word answers, and it was driving him crazy. Now his brother was able to get around on his crutches, he was often in the library, or trying to get in contact with anyone who knew when Y/N had gone.

Dean didn’t want to tell him to let it go. When the fever of the rut had broken, Sam had immediately been on the case to try and find her, even though he was through the worst of it and could survive. He wouldn’t drop the thought of finding her, of making sure she was okay.

Of course, Dean felt guilty as sin, despite still believing it was the worst thing to do.

“Garth?” Sam’s voice echoed through the hall into the kitchen, and Dean perked up, following the sound towards the war room, where Sam was on the phone. “Nothing? Okay, man. I’ll keep searching.” Sam paused, huffing a laugh that carried no humor. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”

He hung up, and Dean hesitated, unsure if he should still be there. His brother looked up, and caught the elder in his sharp gaze, eyes narrowing. “Hey,” Dean lamely announced, raising his hand to give a little wave.

“Hey,” Sam replied, with no enthusiasm. “You need something?”

“No, no,” Dean answered, chuckling. “Just heard you on the phone and -”

“And?”

“You haven’t found anything?”

Sam didn’t look like he wanted to discuss this with Dean, but he relented a little, sitting back in his chair. “Garth picked up her car. She wasn’t back at that motel. No one’s heard anything from her. And her charger was in the bedroom, so calling her…”

“No good, huh?”

“Why’d you send her away, Dean?” Sam pleaded, and Dean moved closer, sinking down into the chair opposite his little brother. “She wasn’t hurting me. She was…”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, quietly and honestly. “I didn’t think. You were hurting and she was… I just… you’re my brother. Everything I do is to protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting from everything!” Sam’s voice was a little raised, but he didn’t seem to be exploding into anger any time yet. “Anything could have happened to her. You’re always telling me we work the job, we find a way through, but this… Dean, this could have been a chance for me to be happy. I wouldn’t have had to keep anything from her - she knows our history, who we are, what we do.”

“And what about the negatives, Sam? She gets hurt.  You don’t want her to hunt because you’re her Alpha and you gotta protect her. Would you have been able to live with yourself when we got her killed?” Dean asked, interrupting his brother’s speech.

“You’re assuming too much. She’s a good hunter.”

“We don’t know that!”

“I’ve spoken to other hunters who know her, Dean. They say she’s one of the best.”

Dean scoffed, slapping his thighs in frustration as he stood up again. “We’re cursed, Sammy.”

“Ever think she might have been the one to break that?” Sam posed, not looking at his brother. Before Dean could answer, Sam’s laptop pinged with an incoming email alert, and he turned, frowning at the screen. “Jody got an alert from a cop buddy in Sioux City, Iowa.” He tapped the keyboard, scrolling down. “Jane Doe - no ID in her wallet, passed out in a Walmart. Taken to Mercy Medical.” Sam looked up, worry on his face. “She’s an Omega and had pre-existing injuries.”

Dean chewed the inside of his cheek, his thoughts easy to read on his face. He wanted to get in the car and go check the lead out because it was most definitely Y/N. But at the same time, he wanted to tell Sam to give it up - he was getting better and didn’t need an Omega.

Did he think that because it was true, or because he didn’t want Sam to not need him anymore?

“Dean…” Sam’s soft pleading tone answered his question. He had to come to terms with this, with the fact that Sam had found his Omega. Just because Dean had fucked up every chance he’d had, ruined every relationship he’d ever had… didn’t mean he had the right to tell his little brother that he couldn’t try for that slice of apple pie life.

“Can you get to the car on your own?” Dean asked, trying not to be happy at the relieved expression on Sam’s face when he nodded. It was a long ass drive to Sioux City, and they wouldn’t be stopping - not if Sam had any say. “Good. Grab your stuff, and let’s go get your girl.”

*****

Your eyes snapped open, spotting the lamp first. Perched on the bedside table, its glow was pleasant and not too bright, and you smiled. Turning over, you found yourself constricted, and you frowned, turning to see Sam’s arm trapping yours to the bed, his face relaxed and content in his sleep.

“Hey,” he muttered, not opening his eyes. “You okay?”

You considered the question, but warmth shrouded your mind. Somewhere, something was telling you that this wasn’t right, like a far-off beeping. You ignored it, settling back down into the bed, snuggling into the little spoon position as Sam shifted and surrounded you with his warmth.

“Let’s not get up yet,” he whispered, holding you close. “Go back to sleep.”

With a smile, you closed your eyes, and let yourself drift.

*****

He’d almost fallen three times in his urgency to get into the hospital. Ignoring nurses, doctors, and Dean calling his name, he headed straight to the reception, slamming into it when his crutches slid on the floor.

“Sir?” the woman at the desk asked, frowning at his abrupt appearance. “Are you okay?”

“You had a Jane Doe brought in,” Sam started, getting right to the point. “Two days ago. She was injured, an Omega.” My Omega. It was a subconscious addition, but Sam couldn’t think beyond the gnawing need to find her, the anxiety in the pit of his stomach curdling like old milk. He wanted to throw up.

“Can I see some ID please?” the nursed asked, clearly suspicious of him.

Dean caught up, leaning on the desk and flashing the woman a bright, charming smile. Her expression didn’t change. “Hi there, er, this is my brother Sam, and I’m Dean, and we think his wife may have been brought in here a couple of days ago. She was visiting relatives upstate and was on her way home?” He lowered his voice, wondering if he was going in the right direction because the nurse didn’t seem to care in the slightest. “She had a car accident - left a nasty cut on her side?”

“Uh-huh,” the nurse acknowledged but she didn’t seem to be reaching for her computer. “If you can stay right here -”

“She’s my Omega,” Sam blurted out. “We had a fight, and she left. The injury was from a car accident a week ago. It was why we fought.” He was almost at the point of crying, and Dean tried to cover up his surprised expression, unsure if his brother was acting or…

The nurse bought it either way. Her stern expression crumpled, and she stood up, reaching for Sam to tap his hand gently. “It’s okay, sweetie. She was brought in here, they’ve got her in room 255. Go down this corridor, up the stairs and to the left.” Sam nodded as she pointed, tears now freely falling down his face.

“Thank you,” he sobbed, bowing his head, and Dean tugged on his arm, assisting him towards the corridor. As soon as they were out of sight of the nurse who watched them leave with a hand over her head, Sam’s composure changed instantly, and he shrugged Dean’s grip off.

“Damn,” Dean muttered, shaking his head.

Sam wiped at his face, sniffing, before moving faster. “Worked, didn’t it?” Dean’s eyebrows darted up for a split second, and he chuckled, following Sam down the hall, resisting the urge to offer help when they got to the stairs.

Room 255 was difficult to find, and while looking around, they were caught by an older man in a white coat, his name tag pronouncing his name as “Dr T. Bear”. Dean glanced at it, and then fixed his eyes on the guy with a bright smile. “Can I help you?” Dr Bear asked, his voice thick and deep as his dark eyebrows arched in questioning.

“We’re looking for room 255,” Sam stuttered, balancing awkwardly on his crutches. “Y/N, she’s my wife.”

Dean nodded along, as the dark-skinned doctor watched them both for a second. “Our Jane Doe. Can I see some ID?” Sam instantly produced his actual ID, which shocked Dean, and the doctor took it, humming as he inspected the photo and details. “Well, Mr Winchester, I’m glad this girl has someone out there. She was in a bad way when she came in.”

Sam’s face crumbled into despair, and he leaned on his crutches a little heavier. “Can I see her?” he whispered, and the doctor nodded.

“Absolutely. Come with me.”

Dean looked over at his brother, asking the question silently. Sam’s smile was barely there, but the shake of his head was discernibly a “no”. He wanted to do this alone. With a huff, he stepped back, watching his brother walk away with the doctor.

“Now, I’ve got to warn you, your wife -”

“Y/N,” Sam interrupted, “and she’s not just my wife.”

Doctor Bear seemed a little taken aback by that. “We didn’t think she was mated. It’s unusual to see a woman of her age without a mate, but all her vitals were typical of a forced heat.”

“She’s been ill,” Sam replied smoothly. “It was… why we fought. We had an accident last week, the car was totalled and,” he gestured to his leg, “we both got hurt. She passed out at the wheel. Her heats haven’t been great…” He trailed off, and the doctor looked sympathetic.

“You don’t have children? Sometimes it can solve bad heats, just giving the body what it wants.”

Sam shook his head. “It’s not an option for us right now,” he murmured, his cheeks turning a little red at the thought of having pups with her, with his Omega. They’d be beautiful like her, and smart, and funny - 

“I understand,” the man replied, coming to a stop, waiting for Sam to balance himself. “She’s in here,” Doctor Bear said, pushing the door open. Sam leaned in, grief slamming into him like a brick wall when he saw her, prone in the bed with wires trailing across her like rope holding her down. “Now, she’s stable,” Doctor Bear started, following Sam into the room and shutting the door. “But she’s not in a good place, Mr Winchester. Her wound was infected, and her body couldn’t fight off the effect of the heat and the infection. Did you know her phone was dead when they found her? Cops hadn’t managed to unlock it yet.”

“She left her charger at home,” Sam whispered, unable to take his eyes off of her. “How did it get infected? We’d dressed it and cleaned it like…” Like Dad taught us. “Like the emergency room showed us.”

The doctor shook his head. “I don’t know, sometimes these things happen. She may have caught it, or aggravated the healing process - either way, she’s not improving.” The dark man turned to Sam, looking up at him with concern in his eyes. “She should be fighting this. Naturally, her body would, but sometimes we have cases - when people don’t want to wake up, they don’t ever wake up.”

Sam couldn’t help but look stricken at that, the thought of watching her slip away almost too much to bear. “Why wouldn’t she want to wake up?”

“You tell me, Mr Winchester.” The question hung in the air like a noose, and Sam knew exactly why she didn’t want to wake up. It was the same reason he’d been afraid to close his eyes at night. “I’ll give you a few moments. I’m a firm believer that love can heal, and if you’re her Alpha, she needs you right now.”

The doctor backed away, watching from the doorway as Sam sank down into the chair beside the woman’s bed awkwardly. His fingers were shaking when he reached out, barely ghosting over the surface of Y/N’s skin. With a sigh, Doctor Bear turned away, heading back to the nurses' station. The other man that had come in with Sam was sitting there, looking bored and irritated.

“How is she?” he asked, as soon as he spotted the older man.

“She’s not good. And quite frankly, you should prepare your friend for the worst,” the doctor replied honestly, but not without compassion. “It’s not easy to lose an Omega.”

Dean swallowed as the doctor walked away, looking back in the direction he’d come. The door was still open, and he could see Sam’s hunched figure over a bed, and his heart decided to take up residence in his stomach.

If she died, Sam would never forgive him.


	7. Chapter 7

Six hours, and he hadn’t moved. His hands were clasped under his chin, dark circles staining the skin under his eyes, and Dean was exhausted just looking at him. Several times, he’d attempted to get Sam to come back to the motel room and rest, but all he got was a shrug and a grunt for his trouble.

Eventually, Dean left, slipping his number to one of the nurses, asking her to keep an eye and let him know if anything happened. She was attractive, and angled her hips towards him, smiling coyly and batting her eyelashes.

He mentioned that he wouldn’t object if he called her when her shift ended and earned himself a high-pitched titter, and a promise to take good care of Sam and his “wife”. Of course, the nurse at the reception had spread the word, and Sam was the target of sympathetic looks and women clutching their chests.

Dean couldn’t watch anymore.

For thirty minutes, he sat in front in the Impala, staring out of the window at the people emerging from the hospital. He saw an old man guiding his frail-looking wife to their busted up Cadillac, its peeling paint looking so sad in the early daylight. A nurse was running and nearly losing a shoe because she was rushing, then somehow managed to drop her purse. The colleague that came to her rescue led her inside, both of them smiling and laughing.

A mom, with three kids, rushing them inside with gifts in her arms and a balloon that proclaimed in pink glitter, “Get Well Soon”. And as they entered the building, the inner door opened - a tall man with a smile on his tired face, and a woman moving slowly behind him with a wider smile, and a tiny bundle in a car seat, one little fist squirming out of the blankets.

These people had no idea what lay outside of their normal. What lurked in the dark and the terrifying things that would eat them and their children for breakfast. This was the normal Sam had longed for, and the normal that Dean had denied himself.

And now, he was denying it for Sam. He’d done this. He’d sent Y/N away, and now she was unreachable, unmoving, withering away in a hospital bed.

The Impala groaned when he turned the ignition.

“Castiel,” he ground out, pulling the car towards the motel they’d checked into. “Wherever you are, we need you.”

*****

“Hey, sugar.” The soft feminine voice roused Sam from his dozing, and he turned sleepy eyes towards the door. “You should get yourself some rest.”

“I’m fine,” he murmured, giving her a fake smile, before turning his eyes back to the unconscious Omega. “Any change?”

The nurse moved towards the bed, picking up the clipboard in the end tray. “Not that I can see. The doctor will be along soon to check her over.” Sam nodded, not tearing his eyes away from the woman on the bed. “Hun, you’ve been in here for nearly 24 hours. You haven’t slept or eaten. Now, us girls think it’s super sweet that you’re so dedicated, but you’re not gonna be much use to her without some rest. And that ankle of yours won’t heal.”

He blinked up at her, considering her words. “I don’t wanna leave her,” he whispered, his fingers curling around Y/N’s wrist. A smile crept onto the nurse’s face, and she nodded.

“I got an idea. Let me see if I can find one of the fold away cots in the on-call room. We’ll set that up in here, and I’ll swipe you some goodies from the cafeteria, K?”

Sam gave her a grateful smile, feeling tears prick his eyes. The nurse’s smile widened and she reached out, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” he rasped, his tone broken and exhausted.

“No problem,” she replied, before turning away to see to her plan.

When Dean returned, Sam was stretched out on the cot, as close to Y/N’s bed as he could get, one hand resting next to hers, and the other pressed underneath his head. His feet were hanging off the end of the thin cot mattress, but he was still wearing one boot and his cast.

“Sammy?” Dean hissed, nudging his brother’s leg, and Sam grunted, slowly opening his eyes. He looked up at his brother, grimacing when he pulled his hand from under his cheek, the limb numb and tingling with pins and needles. “How long were you out?”

“A few hours,” Sam replied, sitting himself up and rotating his shoulder to try and get some feeling back into it. “The nurses -” He gestured to the bed, and Dean nodded.

“Sweet of ‘em,” he offered, sighing and thrusting his hands into his jacket pockets. “I couldn’t get hold of Cas.”

Sam nodded, looking down at his feet. “Right.”

“We’re gonna fix this, Sam,” Dean insisted, feeling more helpless than ever. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”

“Don’t,” Sam interrupted, shaking his head but not looking at his brother. “I don’t wanna hear it. You did what you thought was right - like you always do. And someone got hurt.”

“That’s not fair, man,” the elder Winchester replied, his shoulders slumped, and Sam raised his head to look at him. “I didn’t think she’d run. I didn’t think she’d end up here. I just… I just didn’t want you to die.”

Sam scoffed, grabbing his crutches to stand, and preparing to argue when there was a soft knock at the door; it creaked open without waiting for a reply. Garth’s face poked through the hole, a grin on his lips. “Knock knock,” he announced, rather pointlessly. “Hey, guys.”

“Garth?” Sam questioned, frowning. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I figured somethin’ was up, since Deano was looking for Y/N, and I have her car. So I spoke to Jody, who pointed me this way. How’s she doin’?” The werewolf-hunter smiled and peered around Sam to the bed, his expression crumbling. “Oh, man, that doesn’t look good.” As if realizing what he said, he perked up. “But Y/N, she’s a tough cookie. Kicked my ass on more than one occasion.” Garth laughed nervously, rocking back and forth on his feet, obviously forgetting when to shut up. “I mean, this one time -”

“She’s in a coma,” Sam informed him, turning away. He hobbled around the bed to sit on the other side, securing the crutches behind him, and then reached out to hold her hand. “She might not wake up.”

Garth glanced at Dean, who nodded. “Oh. I’m sorry, man. But y’know, I’m a firm believer in true love. Me and Bess have got through a lot just on love alone. I bet she knows you’re here, Sam. She’ll be wakin’ up in no time.” Dean looked down at the floor as Sam didn’t respond; Garth was ever the optimist, but both Winchesters had seen far too much to believe in fairy tales. “Hell, maybe you could even wake her up with a kiss,” he joked.

“Dude,” Dean muttered, under his breath, turning to Garth. “Outside, now.”

Sam didn’t look up when the door shut, and after a few seconds, he leaned forward, pressing his head into the bed. “I just want you to wake up, Y/N,” he whispered, letting the tears fall. “If you don’t want me, that’s fine, I can… I can live with that. We barely know each other, I’ve been an Alpha for a few days - I’ve got no idea what you need. But I do need you. Just wake up. We can figure out the rest later.”

Nothing happened, and he closed his eyes, feeling the coolness of her skin against his forehead. A sob escaped him, and he pressed his fingers into hers, wishing more than anything she’d just squeeze them a little.

“Please,” he begged, looking up at her face.

A stupid idea struck him, and Sam glanced towards the door, seeing Garth and Dean’s outlines moving frantically behind it. They were probably arguing - or Dean was giving the younger man a dressing down. But Garth never meant any harm. Although the idea of true love…

It couldn’t possibly work, could it?

His legs were shaking when he stood up, and Sam had never felt so tall as he loomed over the bed. Y/N’s lips were cracked and dry, and her skin was pasty, lacking most of its natural color. But she was still so damn beautiful.

Leaning forward, Sam closed his eyes, feeling more and more like a fool as he pressed his lips against hers, lingering for only a few seconds. The taste of her was intoxicating, and when Sam pulled away, he didn’t want to open his eyes and wanted to hold onto the fantasy that she was awake.

When he did open his eyes, hers were wide open and staring at him in shock. Her lips were parted slightly, and the machines started to beep wildly. Sam blinked, unsure if what he was seeing was real, or if he’d finally tipped over the edge.

Then she spoke.

“Sam?” she croaked, and he managed to shake himself free of his stupor, slamming his hand into the call button and reaching for the glass of water on her bedside table. Y/N accepted it, sipping tenderly, not looking up when the door opened abruptly and two nurses ran in, skidding to a halt.

“Doctor!” One of them called, just as Y/N handed the glass back to Sam, smiling at him gratefully. Dean and Garth were in the room again, staring at both Sam and Y/N with dumbfounded confusion. The nurses were quick to fuss over her, checking her vitals as the doctor appeared.

“Y/N,” Sam whispered, smiling in wonderment. He worried he was going to wake up any second now, and find her still sleeping, still so far out of his reach. She nodded, as if sensing his thoughts, and he collapsed back into the chair. He wanted everyone to leave, so he could relish the moment, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

He just had to wait.

There was time now.

*****

Within a day, you were done with the whole hospital scene and made your escape, discharging against medical advice. Sam was more than happy to whisk you away, and even Dean seemed happy to accompany you back to the bunker. Garth had your car towed there, and when you could finally get a hold of your overnight bag, you wanted nothing more than a shower and a bed that wasn’t hospital issue.

Instead, as soon as the effects of the medicine they’d given you wore off, you got your heat back in full force. Sam was still in rut, and when Dean pulled the Impala up to the bunker, he didn’t turn the engine off.

He turned to Sam, giving him a smirk. “I’m not coming in.”

“What? Why?” Sam asked, but you couldn’t help but notice the lack of disappointment in his tone.

“You two,” Dean gestured to the both of you, “have got issues to work out. Now, that’s either gonna be soap opera drama, and I’m not in the mood for Days Of Our Lives, or you’re gonna fuck like it’s the end of the world, and I’m not in the mood for Casa Erotica starring my little brother.” He paused. “Or the sound effects. So I’m gonna go find a motel, a hot girl from a bar, and have myself a little vacation.”

You were expecting Sam to put up a token objection. You weren’t expecting him to practically leap out of the car on his cast and crutches, before dragging you from the backseat without so much as a wave to his brother.

Too soon, you were all alone in the bunker, standing on one side of the war room, with Sam watching you from the other.

“This wasn’t what I envisioned,” Sam started, his voice tinged with amusement. “I guess I wasn’t thinking with my upstairs brain.”

You chuckled at that, shaking your head, tugging at one finger with the opposing hand. “To be fair, I wasn’t either. But…”

“But?” Sam interrupted, and you locked your eyes on his. “Y/N, if you don’t want this -”

“No!” you cried, holding a hand up. “No, I want this. God, I want you, Sam, so much. Even if the horror stories are true -” Guilt smothered his face at that, and your stomach twisted. “I don’t believe you’d ever let anything happen to me.”

“You just got out of the hospital. Because of me and my brother,” he pointed out, his shoulders dropping a little. “This is all my fault. So how can you believe that?”

You tilted your head, smiling at him. “Because you’re my Alpha, and I think I’m in love with you?” His expression changed and he blinked, no answer to give to your statement. “Sam… I know this is a big thing. Hell, it’s the biggest thing. I never thought I’d find anyone, let alone an Alpha like you. You’re a hero, a legend… and you’ve spent your whole life thinking you were Beta.”

Sam shrugged, and his crutches rattled. “They always said everything is bigger in Kansas,” he joked, using the line that his dad had told him. “And I’m a Kansas boy.”

The dirty thought that popped into your head wasn’t content with staying quiet, and before you could stop yourself, you’d started to talk. “Everything’s bigger in Kansas, huh?” Your voice came out silky smooth, and Sam’s throat constricted, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Wanna prove that?”

“Fuck yes,” he cursed and went to lunge forward, only to almost trip on the crutches and cast. You rushed towards him, placing your hands on his strong, broad chest, which placed your mouth inches from each other. “This could prove to be a problem,” he grunted.

“Follow me,” you instructed, trailing your hands over his pectoral muscles, before tearing away and heading down towards the bedroom. Sam groaned, inhaling your thick scent, and his cock started to fill out in his pants. Like he was under a spell, he followed you, the crutches clicking on the tiled floor.

You stopped at his room, opening the door with one hand and not looking at him until he was in the bedroom with you, watching you closely.

“Lay down,” you commanded, and Sam nodded, moving over to the bed, about to ditch his crutches to lay down when you cleared your throat, catching his attention. “You might wanna take your clothes off first,” you suggested, and he grinned, nodding again.

Watching Sam strip slowly and awkwardly was strangely erotic, and the second he pulled his pants down, your eyes went wide. His cock was long, thick and curved, the tip red and swollen, leaking precum from the tiny slit.

Huh. How did this guy never know he was an Alpha?

When he was situated on the bed, his eyes following you, you started to strip for him. The yoga pants went first - you turned to give him a good view of your ass as you slid them down. Sam’s answering groan made you smirk in satisfaction, and you straightened, lifting your top as you went.

The only downside to the timing was your choice of underwear. A completely unflattering bra from the budget department at Walmart, and the holiest Batman girl boxers that anyone had ever seen. But Sam didn’t seem to care. You unhooked your bra, keeping your back to him as you let the fabric fall from your shoulders. As you turned, he literally growled as his cock bounced against his stomach.

You had to take a second to admire just how fucking big it was again. Would it even fit?

Sam’s fingers were clenching in the sheets, and you drew closer, shedding the ancient boxers before kneeling on the bed and crawling to him. Reaching for his cock, you slipped your fingers around it, getting closer so you could kiss the tip and start to slide your lips down -

And he stopped you, an inch from your planned route. With a questioning look, you glanced at him; he was smiling softly and shaking his head.

“Later,” he promised. “Right now, I wanna be inside you, Omega.”

Heat like nothing you’d felt before curled in your belly with a possessive stamp. His skin was hot and slick underneath your touch, and you could feel your arousal trickling down your thighs.

“Smell so good,” Sam groaned, pulling you into his lap. “I’m going to have you sit on my face so I can make you cum with my tongue later.” You whimpered at the thought, holding yourself above him. Your knees shook with the effort, but you stayed still as Sam eased his cock between your folds.

“Oh god, Sam,” you hissed, as the thick rim of his crown breached your entrance, pushing into you with a sweet burn of pleasure that hummed through your veins to make you dizzy with need. Keeping it slow, you sank further down, feeling full like you’d never felt before. His scent was like a drug, making you crave more, and the sounds he was making indicated that it was same for him.

Sam was your Alpha. Within a simple second of clarity, you’d realized what that gnawing emptiness your entire life had been. It wasn’t death, evil, the life or otherwise. It was the lack of him.

Your hips came flush with his thighs and you cried out at the immense pressure of having him entirely inside you. His fingers clasped your hips, and you couldn’t wait for more - you need it now. You rocked back slightly, whining at the fullness, and Sam’s fingers grew tighter.

“Want you, Y/N,” he growled, forcing you to focus on him. “Want you so much, Omega.”

Slight rocking because vigorous thrusts, your body working to the limit as you sought your release on the thick Alpha cock inside you. Sam let you have full control, lending you his strength for balance, but the pace was yours. The urgency inside you was too much to control, and within seconds, you were screaming and arching yourself into a graceful curve while Sam watched in awe.

When you came down, panting and still on him, he smiled, tugging you down flush against him for a kiss. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, and you smiled, nuzzling your face into his.

From there, it was less movement, but more everything else. Sam held you close, kissing you and touching you in places you’d never realized felt so good. Your bodies were slicked with sweat, and you could feel your juices drenching his thighs and yours. Neither of you stopped moving, rocking together like waves, in perfect synchronization.

Sam’s knot started to swell, his hips moved up hard, forcing it into you. It popped, prompting you to cum hard, and Sam was done. He came, sinking his teeth into your neck as his cock pumped thick ropes of cum into your womb. It felt like forever before he was done, and your belly was warm with his spendings.

You leaned in, closing your eyes and biting him back, taking the biggest risk you’d ever taken in your life.

And then, it was perfect.

Only for a second, but it was enough for an eternity, and Sam released you, sighing heavily. You licked the wound you’d left, tasting the tang of his blood on your tongue, before settling in against his chest. His arms came up around you, sharing their warmth as your bodies remained connected.

“They always said that this life ends bloody,” you whispered, taking a second before looking up at him, straining your neck a little.

“Maybe it does,” he replied, smiling widely. “But now? I think it’s worth the chance.”


End file.
